


Sneak Peaks

by Denidale



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, WIP, all of these may never get done, i love our sons but im not in a good place and i want you guys to have content im sorry, unfinished works, will add more tags as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-23 06:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11984196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denidale/pseuds/Denidale
Summary: Look, I've been in a bad place for a while. I'm not doing good, but I want you guys to have content. Here are my WIP(s). All of these are slow to be update and may very well be finished and put in a seperate place, but for now they get dumped here. Have my ponderings. Thank you all for sticking with me.





	1. Chapter 1

Start up hours like these, due to rise at the ass crack of dawn, were always slow in the shop. Especially with the shift forward an hour for daylight savings. Now, the sun wasn’t even rising by the time Daryl unlocked the doors and flicked on the large neon sign in the front window. He didn’t mind though, and he was aware that Maggie knew, good and well, he was up at this hour every morning anyway. Years of being trapped in a house with his father had molded him to rise with the birds, sometimes even before, when – for a breath of a second – he could lay there, peaceful and warm. And, then slip quietly through his window to his own personal safe haven. 

Yeah, he didn’t mind mornings like these, preferred them in all honesty. He wouldn’t say he despised having a roommate. After all he’d shared a room with Merle religiously until he was eight, and then periodically from then until Daryl finally moved out for good; and, it wasn’t that Glenn was in any way a bad roommate, in fact he had quickly become a close companion, if not a bit overeager. No, it was neither of those things, merely the fact that pure alone time, when the world was still and dark, felt like a breathe of fresh air after being stuck in a moldy, damp room for too long. It felt like freedom. Like home, in it’s own way. Pure and crisp like the first, burning sip of whiskey without the hangover. And, Daryl rather liked that feeling, even if it was a fleeting thing. 

Besides, it was Friday and that ensured a full house later on that night. While, normally, he’d go ahead and make a b-line for his dorm after his shift ended at lunch, Maggie had gone through lengths to personally invite him to come to karaoke night, and by ‘personally invite’ she meant that he was threatened into remaining around until ten p.m. or so. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

(Different Scene)

The smell was sweet and clung to senses like an old friend, washing over him in a hazy caress, encompassing him in the memory of the time spent with his uncle. His eyes slipped shut in a slow exhale, lung burning pleasantly against the assault, feeling the way his tattoo ached and scars burned at the edges, tingled in warning. Daryl hung his head for a moment, taking in the feeling, relishing in the memory before his eyes snapped open to fall heavily on the two men in front of him, who gazed with more interest now then amusement, narrowing slightly. He quickly exhaled further, clearing his throat and holding out the cigar with a frown. 

“S’good. Ain’t had one like that since I was a kid.”, he muttered lightly, eyes trailing away as, what he knew was a flush, spread across his cheeks, tinging the tips of his ears a subtle pink.

Shane’s interest seemed to peak at the words, and he eyed the shorter male, taking the cigar back with a lingering brush of fingers that had Daryl snatching his hand away and flushing harder. The larger cop seemed smug with realization and the shortest of the three huffed irritably and looked away, shifting in between the two men to head for the door. 

“ ‘Oughta get back in there. It’s always busy this time’a night.”, 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

(Different Scene)  
Daryl sighed softly, eyes drifting away from Rick and Shane’s forms as he took a nice, long drag off his cigarette.   
“I never hit back, contrary to popular belief. Never woulda hit Uncle Jess like that. Knocked the shit outta that fucker that man handled him though, won’t lie. Beat him ‘til I figured he had the same head damage Jess did. Set me off, ya know? I was pissed. Then Uncle Jess turned to me and – quietest voice I ever heard outta him – called me Will…Four damn years I came ta see him in that clinic, never once remembered my name, and he calls me my father.”, Daryl looked at his lit cigarette blankly, contemplating it before he took another drag, shaking his head. He still refused to make eye contact, finding other things in the room to examine as he spoke. 

“Used ta talk about me. We’d have conversations about his half-nephew. Talk like I hung the moon and shit. I used to think it was a trick ‘cause a that. That he had’t’ve been pullin’ my leg ‘er some shit…”, Daryl shook he head again, grimacing to himself, “Nah, ‘cause everyday I walked through those doors and he’d look at me like an old friend fer a split second, like he was remembering something fond and then call me some wild name and ask me if I wanted ta play chess er have a smoke. After that first day, I never tried to tell ‘em it was me. Not again. Fer him I was anyone he needed me to be. And, if that wasn’t Daryl, who the hell was I to deny him. Took care’a me all my life.”

When he finished he went abruptly quiet and it dawned on the two elder men that was probably the most they’d ever heard him speak all at once. The room was silent for a long moment before Daryl straightened in his chair and took a final drag of his cigarette, eyes faraway for a second longer before they were blinked back to their sharp, stormy blue. He smashed out the butt of the thing and gave his last exhale of smoke, allowing it to billow from the corner of his mouth before he was wiping off the palms of his hands on his jeans and nodding to the two men across from him.   
“Thanks for the smoke and the drink. ‘Preciate the hospitality, but– uh –I really should be goin’.”, he ducked his head again a bit, keeping his eyes down. As he moved to slide open the patio door Rick and Shane exchanged a quick glance, and, with a flurry of movement, Shane moved to grasp Daryl’s shoulder. 

“Daryl, wait…We-…”, Shane paused quick enough that it caught Daryl’s attention, and the shorter man turned his eyes to the cop’s, narrowing curiously through his bangs. He watched Shane flounder for a moment, tipping his head to the side a bit and observing the way Shane’s eyes flitted hurriedly between his own, searching for some tack on he hadn’t pre-prepared. “As cops we can’t allow you to drive home after you’ve been drinkin’. But, just so happens we’ve been drinkin’ too. And, it’s late…”

That made Daryl a little queasy, and Rick seemed to sense his unease and Shane’s hesitance, stepping in to offer a sincere, apologetic smile.   
“We just wanna offer you tha guest room, Daryl.” 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

(Different Scene)  
Daryl cursed sharply, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel, taking a moment to calm his breathing before he picked his head up, dragging his fingers through his hair. This wasn’t even about his father anymore. It wasn’t about Jess. It wasn’t about his brother. This wasn’t about blood. Blood had no meaning anymore, the word was as dead to him as the name Will Dixon. As lost and far gone as Jess Dixon. As meaningless as Merle Dixon. Two in the grave, one halfway there, off destroying himself and leaving Daryl alone – again. Like always. Never there to soothe his worries. Never protecting him. Blood didn’t mean shit anymore. No, blood had nothing to do with this. 

He tightened his hands around the wheel and shook himself a bit, frustrated, mind racing as quick as his heart. He cursed again and threw his head back against the head rest, flexing his shoulders before he was throwing his door open and slamming it shut, feet planting themselves firmly on the ground. No, this wasn’t about blood. This wasn’t about anyone else, but him and what he wanted. This was about him. Him and his choice. His ability to choose, to make things better. 

Daryl hesitated again, pacing in a frustrated circle, raking a shaky hand through his hair again before closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, allowing the cool, spring air to ease him. 

‘You can do this..’, he thought squarely, giving himself no room to argue or overthink, making things as simple as he could for his mind to comprehend. He then slowly opened his eyes and gave himself a nod in response, hands curling in to fists at his sides as he marched up the stairs of the front porch and knocked forcefully on the door. 

The archer tried to curb his shaking shoulders, eyeing the door in a terrified, yet determined way until it opened. Rick looked groggy and disoriented, squinting at him in confusion and then disbelief. The door opened more to give both men a better view of one another and Daryl took the chance to shove his way through, not giving himself time to stare at Rick’s shirtless form and panic before he was slamming their lips together. The cop gasped sharply against his lips, hands hovering in surprise before they were curling tightly around the shorter male’s hips, thumbs digging into the sensitive flesh there and yanking Daryl closer with a satisfied groan.


	2. High On You

Daryl arched, breathless and blissed out, mouth falling open to gasp for air as another wave of liquid heat coursed through his veins. He grasped at the sheets or his binds on and off, hands and fingers scrambling for purchase when the sensations grew too intense. This deep sensual pleasure kept rolling down his spine, branching through his thighs and sides, causing them to seize up and tense, leaving his lungs empty and aching in a way he never thought he’d crave so deeply. His muscles where aching with every stretch, every buck of his hips and arch of his spine, but it was a good ache. One the wormed its way into your bones and made them feel like jelly. The kind that left you pleasantly sore after with small quakes and groans of pain that linger as a reminder of your sin. An ever present mark. 

“Shane…”, he breathed, more of a whine then a word, his arms straining softly as tried to escaped the silky fabric trapping his arms above his head.   
The mouth on his chest paused and large hands feathered over the insides of his splayed thighs, sending a pleasant shudder down his spine. It was only for a moment, a split second to revel in that name slipping from Daryl’s lips before the ones on his chest moved again, tracing around a nipple before closing around it, earning another breathy noise. Daryl was slowly crawling towards that blissful headspace. That drift between consciousness and unconsciousness, a rift between reality and subspace, tottering on that edge. Shane was good at that, getting him to let go, leaving him suspended just long enough to let all of that tension drain away before dragging him back down to Earth. 

“Yeah?...Bet that’s feelin’ real good right about now, ain’t it, sugar?...Just a little more…Been so good…Give me just a little more.”, Shane mumbled softly, allowing his breath to fan out over the male’s chest.


	3. Only You

“Riiiiick…”

The cop sighed deep and long through his nose, quietly continuing to fold clothes. Rick made no move to acknowledge Shane’s whining, keeping his eyes and focus on the task ahead, doing his damnedest to ignore the tugging at his hips. Warm breathe fanned over his neck and a nose nuzzled just behind his ear, a soft kiss pressing to the skin as strong arms encircled his waist. 

“C’mon…You know I didn’t mean to take it that far…”, the male murmured behind him, gently kissing at the side of the shorter male’s neck, nuzzling at it apologetically, “Baabby…C’mon, Sugar, at least look at me…Somethin’..”

The last words were softer, hesitant now, testing and desperate. Just enough so that Rick shifted to lock eyes with the larger, giving him a deeply disapproving glare. The sight had Shane cringing as if in pain, and his grip loosened, eyes drifting quickly to the floor in a way that made Rick’s chest hurt. The deputy sighed and raked a hand through his slicked back curls, pushing them out of his face before he turned back to the clothes with a troubled expression. 

“Shane, I know you don’t like this situation with Lori any more then I do. But, she’s still Carl’s mother and we need to play nice. I know me and her left off on bad terms last year, but that doesn’t mean we need to make this whole custody thing worse for Carl. I ain’t sayin’ we bow down to her every whim, but she isn’t a bad woman and we don’t have to treat her like one just because she made some mistakes-“

“Rick she hurt you. Bad…In my book that’s enough. And, you know how she is with Carl, I just…The boy ain’t happy.”, Shane retorted, but quietly, as if wary of angering Rick further, “…You know I didn’t mean to take everythin’ s’far as I did, but…I just can’t take it when she brings Carl into this like some barginin’ chip…Like it’s all about getting’ back at you fer somethin’ when you weren’t even in the wrong to begin with. Shit ain’t right…I-…Can’t stand to see you look like that. You get this far off look in your eyes, and you always look so tired...Like back when we’d have those talks in the cruiser ‘bout everything…Hurts so fuckin’ much to see you like that.”

Rick took a moment to ponder that, shifting to lean back into Shane’s chest and cross his arms over his own. His eyes swept over the laundry before him and he sighed, closing his eyes at the sight of his son’s wardrobe laid out over the bed. He shook his head before relaxing into the feeling of Shane nuzzling against the concave of his collarbone, kissing at it gently. He reached up to drag a gentle hand through the male’s hair, drawing him a bit closer. 

“…I know…I know, Shane…But, she’s his mother…I can’t take that away from either of them. And, we’ll get every other week. I just…Can’t do that to them. Either of them. Carl needs his mom…And, no matter how much she plays like it isn’t the case, she really needs him, too. So, we’re going to deal with it for now, until everything gets decided. For Carl’s sake.”, he murmured in a soft tone, yet one that held no room for argument.

Shane went quiet for a moment, just holding the man before he lightly smoothed his hands over the male’s hip bones, nuzzling further into him. “Do you still love her?..” 

The question was quiet and barely there and Rick was already aware the male behind him new the answer, but he knew, just as well, Shane sometimes required a physical answer to smooth down the prickling insecurities left by a mother who left with only an utterance of how she didn’t need to deal with him and a father who’d stayed only long enough to make it so his boy had a deep rooted fear of anger then never returned. Shane’s father had been a cruel countryman, treated the man like dirt and made sure he’d wind up trembling on the floor without so much as laying a finger on him, conditioned him to think of himself as a lower being with only threats and words before disappearing to leave Shane wondering if he even deserved to be breathing and what he’d done wrong. Questions both answered by Rick, the Grimes family, and Shane’s own grandmother.   
Despite the male’s progress, Rick was more then aware that, more often then not, those insecurities and questions still haunted his partner. Which is one of the main reasons Rick got up every morning on a mission to pamper Shane on whatever way the day would allow, whether it be a brush of the shoulder, or an extra kiss on the lips, or an extra cup of coffee during the graveyard shift, or a blowjob under his desk after hours when they had to stay late doing paperwork.

The deputy turned, untangling himself from Shane’s hold and gazing at him squarely in the eyes that were going through lengths to avoid his, worry creasing the larger male’s brow and making the corners of his lips twitch down. He didn’t like looking weak. Not even in front of Rick. Guilt wormed its way into Rick’s stomach as the realization of his attitude and mannerisms over the past few weeks came back to him, allowing him to fully understand Shane’s outburst earlier and the reasoning behind the question. Shane thought it was his fault in some way, both Rick’s perpetual bad mood and the issues involving the divorce and custody. 

Rick frowned deeply before reaching up and grasping the back of Shane’s neck, drawing their foreheads together, taking a moment to shake his head slowly to himself before easing their lips together in a slow kiss Shane wholly melted into. “Nothing I felt for Lori all those years will amount to what I feel for you, Shane…It’s only you..”, he uttered quietly against the man’s lips, relishing in the quiet whimper he earned.


	4. Somewhere No One Knows My Name

Shane’s arrival into King’s County was quiet, and unnoticed in the beginning. Despite his five years away the old town looked the same as ever, the same as five years ago, back when he’d been fresh out of high school and new to the academy. The same heavily wooded drive in, the same quaint houses lining quiet streets, some freshly painted, others worse-for-wear but going strong as ever. The same little overly priced convenient store out on the main street curb with the addition of a larger gas station sitting in place of the smaller, run down one Shane remembers visiting frequently as a teen. 

He just rides for a while, relishing in the heavy weight of the nostalgia settling on his chest. He takes in the small, gritty details of his home town before pulling up at a familiar old garage, windows down to allow the heavy scent of motor oil and the heat of late Georgian spring to assault his senses. Memories of the old garage wash over him pleasantly, of days spent with Rick and Daryl lingering around as Dale and Merle worked, well, at least while Merle stuck around. Shane couldn’t blame him though, once his grandmother passed away three years after he graduated high school he’d dropped out of the police academy and disappeared so quick, he wouldn’t doubt people thought he was a ghost.

The five years away had been difficult but welcomed, even if he’d walked around with guilt on his shoulders everyday he thought of how lost Daryl and Rick must have felt once he’d left with little word. He’d left a scribbled note and a signature of his childhood nickname ‘22’, but little else, leaving his grandmother’s house to Daryl so he could move out of his shack-like home on the rougher side of town, as well as not trusting anyone else with it other then Rick.

Shane sighed deep and slow through his nose at the remembrance of the two, and gave the garage another quaint once over before turning off the ignition and stepping out of his truck. A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth and he strolled through the graveled lot, admiring the familiar sound of bustling bodies and clanking tools. He gave a light wrap of knuckles on the metaled wall, smirking a to himself as he gained a bit of attention.   
“Dale happen to be in at the moment?”, he asked lightly, his own attention falling to a grunt that sounded from underneath a car to his left. Boots shifted about before kicking outward, skidding the outward revealing a familiar lithe torso, sculpted biceps, and broad shoulders. 

“Dale don’t work here anymore. Lookin’ fer the owner that’d be me.”, Daryl muttered, not putting his full attention on Shane as he screwed up something above him. Shane said nothing for a moment, enamored by the sight of his old friend so grown up, oil smudged and sweat soaked. He was nostalgic and delightfully new all at once, a little more filled out and toned and tan, hair longer and darker. The one, most definably familiar thing being those sharp, stormy blues when they finally shifted to lock with his. 

They widened slightly and then narrowed in surprise, the man pushing away from the car and maneuvering to prop himself up enough to inspect Shane closely. The man in question allowed a smile to split across his features, hand stretching out as an offering towards the redneck before him. 

“Guess you finally took my advice and just bought the place?”, he asked, low and teasing, hopeful almost before he lit up when he noticed the twitch of the archer’s lips before his hand was being tightly grasped. He hoisted the male up, his opposite hand moving to clutch at a bicep, both steadying his past companion and increasing their physical contact. Daryl returned the motion remaining close for a moment before pulling back. 

“Would hug yer dumbass, but I know how ya are about yer damn dress shirts.”, he muttered, pointedly looking at the light blue button up Shane was currently wearing and then glancing at his own current state of digress.


	5. Voice Like Silk

It wasn’t often Rick would walk through the front door greeted by the gentle sound of a guitar streaming through the hall. Even less often he’d hear that sweet music accompanied by the low, soothing tones of his best friends voice. Partly due to the fact Shane was usually at work with him, but mostly because Shane didn’t sing often, rarely, if at all. Sometimes you could catch glimpses of it while he would hum to himself while doing paperwork, or while he showered and absentmindedly sang to himself while scrubbing his hair, or while he’d cook breakfast with the radio going on quiet Sunday mornings. 

Rick felt his chest tighten slightly, his stomach giving a slow, sensual roll as the gravelly baritones of his partner’s voice moved to wash over him like in a caress.

_“But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do, once you find them.  
I’ve looked around enough to know you’re the one I want to go through time with.”_

Rick drifted closer, moving quietly as he could towards the sound, shifting tentatively towards his daughter’s bedroom. He poked his head in, taking in Shane’s form stretched out in a chair, feet up on the end of Judith’s bed, head back as he sang softly to the girl.

_“If I had a box just for wish and dreams that had never come true, the box would empty, except for the memory of how they were answered by you._  
But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them.  
I’ve looked around enough to know you’re the one I want to go through time with.” 

Shane continued to softly strum, humming quietly, fingers moving with the ease of years of practiced familiarity. Many a time Rick had experienced the skill of those calloused fingers and hands, and watching them work made his gut warm up with both affection and an underlying urge to have those hands on him, or, more preferably, being able to watch them flex around the wood of their headboard. He allowed his eyes to drift over what part of the man’s chest he could see, admiring the smooth, tan skin and the hard muscle of his shoulders and biceps flexing beneath the material of is flannel.


	6. The Urge to Fulfill

Daryl’s place in his life had always been simple. The redneck had slid into place with ease and without the need to question motives and morals and ideals. He’d followed and given council when asked and moved with Rick in a fashion that was so unlike the one he’d had with Shane. A partnership that flowed as easily as the current of a river or the wind through the trees that swirled up towards the sky and unfurled with utter requiescence. Clicked into place like a missing puzzle piece, easy and sure, like his niche was to be there, right at Rick’s side, backing him and loyal to the end. Loyal to their family and to Rick and even to Lori and then Judith and Carl. 

Even when Rick began to question if Daryl was more then a brother to him, it had still been simple, more like an unspoken realization and then an acceptance then some huge awakening. Like he’d just realized some pansies were yellow and some purple, or that the sky was blue. It was an observation. One he didn’t think on too hard, because it wasn’t something huge. It just was. Just like Daryl just was. He was Daryl. And, Rick loved him, and that was that. And, maybe he wasn’t totally sure when he’d begun to truly love the roughed up redneck, but he felt like he didn’t need to. Like the exact time or date didn’t truly amount up to the sensation of loving him. Like it was less important then being in the now, and just accepting it and moving on.

Despite the ease of their partnership, their relationship had been more challenging, but simple nonetheless. While Daryl was a complex man hidden behind safety walls and an engrained sense of obedience that had been strictly enforced from a young age, Rick hadn’t had any issue taking the process slow. It was just like after the first glimpse of his scars. Hands slow, but steady. Predictable movements, but not too noticeably so for if Daryl knew he was begin ‘coddled’ that stoic expression would turn hostile in a split second. But, after ages of gentle coaxing he’d begun to accept the softness in his touch freely. Soon, it wasn’t complicated at all, not even slightly, and they fell into a simple synchrony again. This one sweeter. One filled with the desire to fulfill the other. To complete their other half and make them whole in a world where the mere idea was delicate. Fragile.

But, they’d made it work. Just like always, one step ahead or behind of the other each picking up the others slack, just like when Daryl cared for Judith and came back to him at the prison, and when Rick held Daryl through nightmares and soothed him when they were finally hidden behind the walls of Alexandria. Eased him down from pacing like a wild animal, like a caged panther stalking back and forth, ridden with anxiety and itching for the freedom that was just out of reach. Like when Daryl would listen to stories of Lori and Shane and the old days and Rick would kiss at the scars on his hunter’s skin as if there were none, mumble praises against the raised flesh and soothe his insecurities, cradle him until he was arching and flushed, and his eyes were damp with emotion.

There had been times when Rick was overwhelmed with the urge to fulfill Daryl. Hell, he still was occasionally. Desperate to be absolutely everything he’d ever needed. To be the one he’d come to no matter what and curl in to and cry to and fall apart under. To fill in those places that everyone else in his man’s life had left gaping holes in. Fill in those scars and divots and heal them with a brush of lips and a caress of fingertips and repair the past and the lingering sting of a belt and the deep-rooted fear that still caused the man to flinch when a noise was too loud or when someone raised their hand too suddenly and caught him off guard. And, he tried his damnedest to do just that every day. Tried ceaselessly whether it was with a simple brush of their shoulders to ground the man or a hushed confession when they were twined in the most intimate of ways, hidden from the world and lost within one another. 

The sensation sometimes occurred worse then other times. Sometimes it would wash over him with such force he would have to act on it, grab the hunter and pull him close and kiss him breathless before he would be sated and the feeling in his chest would fade and Daryl would pull back, red-faced and more curious then confused and then go about his business. Other times it would be while gazing at him whilst he hummed to Judith late at night, soothing her back into sleep and cradling her as if she were the most delicate of glass, or while he would joke with Carl or smiled at Michonne or sometimes in those quiet moments where the world paused and the only sound would be quiet breathing and maybe the wind and the faint chirping of birds, and he would catch the beauty that was Daryl Dixon. Witness his soft smiles or his glazed over gaze as he daydreamed or the way his hair fell a particular way and he would shove it out of his face with a palm and a grumble. 

He would take in the slight crook of his nose and those high, graceful cheekbones and those eyes so alike to his own, stormy and so beautifully blue, and those two little moles that adorned his features, one just to the left of his nose and then one just above the left side of his mouth. Relish in the natural downward curve of those thin, pink lips and how long the wisps of his brown locks had gotten. The bulge of those carefully structured and sculpted biceps, developed over years of working with his crossbow and the necessity of survival. That engrained yet subdued anger that was doled out carefully and precisely and sometimes impulsively with words that held as much pinpoint accuracy as his crossbow and as much force as his infamous right hook, the anger that ran through his veins like the whiskey tainted Dixon blood, he fought so hard to contain. Those sweet, subtle insecurities that plagued the corners of his thoughts and only peeked out when he was at his lowest points, doled out and hinted to in his words and actions, yet hidden by the way he held himself.

He’d seen this man grow and grown with him, watched him flower into the being he was today, the man that would risk his life for his people and die fighting to protect them. The man that had searched restlessly for Sophia and protected Rick’s own children when he’d fallen to his lowest, risen whilst he fell and then lifted him up too. The man currently cradling his daughter, humming lowly to her as she dosed on and off, fighting sleep, yet as helpless to Daryl’s spell as Rick himself. And, his heart constricted heavily in his chest, a sudden, deep rush of adoration and want and love coursing through him in a wave that left him buzzing and breathless. 

He quieted his breathing when Daryl’s eyes shifted to meet his own, narrowed and vigilant as they flashed back and forth between his. The stormy blues gleamed in a way that Rick knew was a smile, radiating the hunter’s own special kind of warmth. They soon turned to the sleeping babe in the archer’s arms and Daryl actually smiled, adjusting her carefully in his grasp before laying her down gently in her crib, pausing to, Rick assumed, caress her cheek before straightening. Daryl took a second to gaze, watching over the baby before he sighed deep and long through his nose and pulled his hands away from the edge of the crib, allowing them to fall to his sides. 

Rick watched silently for a moment before creeping closer and coming to stand behind his partner, placing his lips lightly on the side of his neck.   
“She’s fine. Carl’ll come check on her if she starts cryin’…C’mon to bed.”, he whispered softly, careful not to disturb his daughter as he tugged at Daryl’s hips. 

The archer let out a light, breathy laugh, more of a huff of air then a noise, but complied, allowing Rick to guide him from the room. He stopped him only long enough to blow out the small candle near the door and leave Judith’s door cracked before he turned and allowed Rick to capture his lip, huffing again fondly at the pleasant scratch of their scruff rubbing together. 

“Easy there, Sheriff. What’s got you so worked up?”, he murmured, silenced once more by a deep kiss and a soft nip to his bottom lip. He grunted lightly at the sensation and quieted altogether, lightly gripping Rick’s collar as they shuffled along the wall towards their door. 

Rick felt heat tug in his gut, low and warm at the cooperation, fueled by the soft sighs he’d earn when he moved his lips or nipped just right. His hands wandered, eagerly shifting past the male’s vest and pushing aside clothing to get a feel of his archer’s warm skin, desperate for more then just lip on lip contact. Desperate to feel all of the man. Driven by this need to make the man feel as whole as he made him feel. Driven by the desire to fulfill him completely.

Daryl grunted when his back hit their door, the knob jabbing him in the side before he was blindly grasping at it and twisting just enough for it to fall open as Rick pushed him forward again. The archer gasped against his mouth, their tongues and lips parting just long enough for the sharp inhale before Rick dove forward again and roughly tugged the male’s bottom lip. The motion elicited a groan and Daryl moved back, panting and taking Rick in with sharp eyes. He took a careful step back and gestured to the open door with a jut of his chin as he shouldered off his vest slowly, smirking when Rick’s eyes hazily followed the motion.

The Grimes man swallowed heavily, eyes still vigilantly tracking the other male’s fingers as the deftly unbuttoned his shirt, allowing it to drift open to reveal the dark, sparse hairs on his chest and the thick ones trailing down past his pant line. He cursed under his breathe and quickly turned away, trying to ignore how he could feel Daryl smirking behind him. The male shut the door, hesitating to lock it and deciding against it, merely using the moment to compose and pointedly ignore the sound of a belt buckle being jostled. 

“Ya comin’, Officer? The door ain’t much ta look at. I would know.”

Rick inhaled sharply at the words, cock twitching at the memory of fucking the man against it from behind. The heat tugged again and he reached down to deftly adjust himself in his pant, shifting himself to a more comfortable position and squeezing to relieve some pressure before he turned back to a smug looking and half dressed Dixon. He groaned low and deep in his chest at the sight, easing closer slowly until he was close enough for Daryl to tug him to kneel over him on the bed. The man softened some then and gave him another tug, gentle this time and kissed him chastely, yet in a way that warmed him in a fashion much different then arousal. 

“Figured you’d want to take these off.”, he muttered lightly, bumping their noses in an affectionate fashion before placing another sweet, rough peck on his lip. 

Rick huffed lightly and the smile reached his eyes, his chest warming pleasantly as he smoothed his palms down the archer’s sides. 

“Right, as usual.”, he kept Daryl’s gaze as he uttered the words, eyes warm as his lips moved to kiss the middle of the male’s chest, his hands tracing the flesh just above his underwear. 

He chuckled fondly as the male’s stomach sucked in, instinctively drawing away from the ticklish touch and he leaned down to kiss just below the hunter’s bellybutton, eyes shifting over Daryl’s form in a way that could only be described as loving. The attention wasn’t new, but Daryl still flushed and looked away, lightly nudging the older man’s shoulder to get him to move on, squirming lightly underneath the gaze. Rick merely smiled up at him and kissed at the spot again sweetly before gliding up to give the same kiss to Daryl’s lips. The archer hummed at that and twined a hand in the taller male’s hair, kissing him slowly and drawing him closer as the male carefully undid his jeans and tugged them down to his lower thighs. He left them trapped around Daryl’s knees with a smirk, humming against the male’s lips for a moment before pulling away to nibble down his jaw.


	7. Tonight You Look Like Heaven

Shane smirked at him from the other side of the fence, giving him a challenging look between the links.

“Well, guess yer too much of a pussy. Wait’ll Lori and the boys hear ‘ole ‘One-Shot’ Grimes’ too chicken to jump the Kager’s fence.”, he muttered, low and teasing in a way that made Rick’s cheeks redden. The curly haired teen puffed them out and huffed through his nose, defiantly grasping the fence links, causing Shane’s smug expression to grow. He paused for a moment and then glared, cheeks growing even hotter as he looked at the shorter male.

“You’re a fuckin’dick.”, he muttered, breathy and quiet as he started climbing, trying to ignore how hot Shane’s laugh made the tops of his ear.   
The dark haired teen gave him another smug once over when he finally got his feet on the ground again before backing him up against the fence, brushing their noses together teasingly. 

“Didn’t think a saint like you had it in ya. Good job, Grimes.”, he muttered slyly, humming at the shudder he earned, he leaned in a kissed the taller teen, keeping Rick against him for a moment. He waited until the lankier male melted into his embrace to pull back, shooting the elder boy a wink before pulling back, giving his ass a sharp squeeze. “C’mon, wanna see if the sheds still open.”


	8. Possible Mafia AU

Daryl inhaled slowly, tugging faintly at the collar of his shirt, attempting to at least loosen the tie a little as his eyes scanned the smoke clouded bar room. He couldn’t help but think this was a terrible idea, especially with how suspiciously out of place he looked. They’d done plenty of jobs, Rick, Shane, Merle, and him and the rest of their mismatched group of -well, just what were they? That was a question the younger Dixon very well couldn’t answer. Yet, despite their experience, they had never gone for someone so high in the ranks. Not anyone near as powerful as “Buddy” McLean. As many people as they’d stole from, they’d never dared interfere with something as large and dangerous as the Irish Mob and definitely not the Winter Hill Gang.

The Dixon felt a shudder attempt to weave up his spine at the thought of them getting caught. Of just what these men were capable of past eyeing him quietly or flagging him down for a drink. It was tense in the room as mob leaders met and the younger thief was alight with the sensation of prickling fear. Fear the man watching him from under the brim of his cap knew what he was doing. Why he was there in the first place. They were in Buddy’s territory surrounded by his men. He swallowed softly sharply and shifted from foot to foot attempting to unkink his hips which had locked due to him sitting

**Author's Note:**

> holy shit 9 unfinished works probs soon to be more im sorry


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